


The Highest Bet

by Ziane



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Clothed Sex, Come Swallowing, Come as Lube, Creampie, Deepthroating, Explicit Sexual Content, Filthy smut ahead, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Intercrural Sex, It gets out of hand "plot twist", Jesse has a crush, M/M, Married Reaper76, Multi, Mutual Pining, Open Marriage, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Retribution, Rimming, Shameless Smut, Sloppy Seconds, Threesome - M/M/M, Wet & Messy, Wife sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-01 08:01:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16761187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ziane/pseuds/Ziane
Summary: Having a crush is one thing, but when it gets out of hand and you act on it, your life can change in a heartbeat. Right now, Jesse McCree broods on his past self's actions while he's immersed in a mission with the last person he would like to: his crush's husband.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my Lovewatch Secret Santa gift for the lovely Grackle╭( ･ㅂ･)و ̑̑ ˂ᵒ͜͡ᵏᵎ⁾✩ Thank you for making this sooooo easy !! I spent two days deciding which pairing would fit better and you pushed me to write something that I hadn't before. The sentence "I'm a multishipper have fun" was all the encouragement I needed. McReaper76 is a guilty pleasure and I am delighted. I've enjoyed writing this from the very first word to the last. I'm actually in love with Jack Morrison, I'm not even kidding xDDD
> 
> At first, I wanted to write a Mc76 fic but.... it kind of turned into a McReyes thingy too.... and then... well, I'm sorry, okay? McReaper76 it is xDDDD I really hope you like it (I'm sorry it's way too long I got excited xDDD) 
> 
> ε=ε=ε=ε=ε” “(/*’-‘*)/
> 
> I apologize for my grammar/wording, as you know English is not my mother tongue, but I assure you I tried my absolute best  
> ೕ(•̀ㅂ•́ )

This morning McCree waited for the commander on the ORCA. He was ready for a mission no one bothered to inform him about until the last minute. Hours later, he leans over a craps table at a casino in Monaco, and not anyone’s casino but Maximilien’s. It works like that in Blackwatch, your day can go from boring to exciting in a heartbeat. McCree groaned at the comms beeping insistently while the safety of the bedding still swathed him, half-asleep and planning to loiter in bed for as long as his unplanned shore leave lasted. McCree answered with a loud bark and the full-throated voice of Gabriel sent a frisson through his body and awakened his morning wood. He dreaded to face Reyes after successfully avoiding him for three days straight -which was a nightmare to accomplish-. The commander was scarce in words: “You’re up for a mission tonight. Get ready.” McCree didn’t finish babbling his usual _yes sir_ before Reyes cut the call. It fueled his initial uneasiness, and the prospect of a deployment together made McCree jump out of bed and curse under his nose.

It’s not unusual Reyes hands-picks him for a mission even if he’s not on duty. They work well together, they understand each other without words, and trust flows both ways, which usually results in a successful mission and a well-deserved whiskey right after. McCree cherishes those moments a bit too much, listening to stories about SEP, Gabriel and Jack being war brothers or the early Overwatch days. But three days ago he fucked up his possibilities of enjoying moments like that in the future.

McCree rolls the dice, sporting a half-smile and granting a shameless wink at the lady on his right. The dice bounce off the far wall and hold the table in awe until they stop. “Seven! Up pops the devil!” McCree’s smile turns into a wolfish grin as he collects his bet. No one wins money tonight. The Casino hosts a fundraiser party, or that’s what Maximilien wants the public eye to believe. Truth is, Overwatch is here investigating the event because this seeming altruist gathering is a smokescreen for a private auction involving arms trafficking. And what a perfect opportunity to launder money and illegal transactions than a fundraiser event? Money flows and nobody asks where it comes from or where it disappears.

The comms crack abruptly in his ear, and McCree’s smile vanishes. That’s the sign he’s been waiting for since he arrived. “I gotta go,” he says, fixing the lapels of his tuxedo and avoiding pulling at the bow tie constricting his neck. “Take care of these for me, sweetheart.” Another wink is enough to make her blush as McCree gives up on his chips and leaves the table. He’s only lucky when he has nothing to win anyway.

As he ambles toward the bar, he presses the comms behind his ear. “What is it?” His heart thumps impatiently, two hours mingling with rich peers is not his cup of tea and he can't wait to be out of there. Background laughs and the usual racket of a fancy party such as this one fall to the second place in his mind while he waits for an answer. “Meet me at the stairs,” Jack Morrison says clear into his ear.

McCree sighs, keeping his hands in his pockets and shouldering his way to the entrance. The place is more like a castle than a casino. A double-sided staircase conquers the entrance and frames the hall while a huge chandelier hangs from the ceiling. They won’t raise money tonight to cover the costs of this place or the food yet they will all pat themselves on the back for it and sleep like babies, believing they changed the world tossing a few coins around. Fools. McCree clicks his tongue, annoyed at the party and at this morning’s surprise. _Jack knows, damn,_ he repeats to himself for the ninth time tonight.

Jack entered the ORCA instead of Gabriel and greeted him a good morning before taking a seat at his side. McCree mumbled back a “Morning, sir” with a furrow between his eyebrows. This was new, the strike commander getting his hands dirty on a mission with him instead of Gabe, which means he fucked things up big time with Reyes.

“Do you know why you’re here?” Jack asked distractedly, with an unusual supercilious curl of the lips instead of the earnest expression that accompanies him in debriefings.

“No,” McCree said. “Sir,” he added and watched the smile widen.

It’s not that he doesn’t like Jack, he does, Reyes talks fondly of his husband when he’s mildly drunk and though McCree’s first instinct elicits a pang of jealousy, he respects his commanders and somehow envies the long-lasting relationship they’re in, first in the military and then in Overwatch. Most couples would’ve crumbled at the pressure, the fight for power, the deployments… but they kept themselves truthful to each other throughout the years. Sort of, McCree swallows thickly at his train of thought, reclining on the balustrade as he pretends to be resting from the ongoing party, his mind going back inevitably at their conversation this morning.

“Jack’s fine,” the strike commander said. It wouldn’t be the first time McCree calls him Jack. He considers himself close to Reyes, and that familiarity transferred inevitably to Jack, but when the strike commander enters a room, something clenches his stomach in a ball of fear and something else entirely. His blond hair, marred by a few white strands you can barely notice, shines in the sun; he’s big and tall but not like Gabe, not all thick thighs and biceps, more like lean and fit with a whole lot of muscles in between. Jack is like the perfect soldier, the perfect leader, and McCree guesses that’s why they made him a poster boy.

McCree has been soft down on Gabriel for a while now, and he had been doing a great job keeping his crush at bay and chastising himself when the casual conversations and blatant flirting went too far. He won’t lie, he flirts with everyone, but he means it with Gabe. The late-night shifts, sleeping on the same bed on undercover missions, and sharing soft-heartened conversations at the bottom of a bottle of whiskey made McCree realize Gabriel Reyes was so much more than what he initially thought. Something he craved at night when no one’s around and he lets his imagination fly free. He wouldn’t stand a chance. Maybe if Gabe weren’t married or Jack not around. He mumbles an audible curse and avoids thinking about how he let things escalate without noticing, first nursing feelings for his boss, wanting to despise his husband -and failing- and now stuck in the middle of a mess he brought on himself. Three damn days ago.

Jack squeezes his shoulder and McCree turns about only to find those deep, bluer than a summer sky eyes staring at him. No wonder Gabe’s in love and merrily married to Morrison. Damn, he would be happily tied to his bed following commands until the word sir lost its meaning. McCree clears his throat at the inappropriate thoughts lurking his mind as though he hadn’t already done enough to get into trouble. “I’ll go first,” Jack says, fixing McCree’s bow tie as he whispers the words in a raspy voice. He never found it sexy or alluring when it barked at him on meetings but now Jack’s drawl speaks of a new world. McCree feels the red come up his cheeks unannounced, glad his clammy hands are still in the pockets of his trousers because he wouldn’t know what to do with them, not with those eyes scrutinizing his soul and baring his secrets. Jack’s so close, distracted with his tie that McCree just stares, taking in the proximity they never had, the things that seem so easy with Gabe and he never thought would be so thrilling next to Jack. McCree straightens, even though there’s nothing he can do about his heaving chest and his thumping heart. His eyelashes are blond, he realizes.

The adrenaline of the mission mixed with him, his sapphire eyes, and those deft fingers tightening the bow tie as if he could spare a drop of air; everything is driving him mad. The only thing McCree can think about now is that Jack knows. The smiles, the informality of calling him Jack, the subtle flirty tone since he got up the ORCA this morning. Everything points he knows, and he’s fucked up big time and never working along with Gabe again. “Have you heard me?” Jack asks, arching an eyebrow at him.

“Yes, s.. Jack,” McCree mumbles, even though he hasn’t paid attention to a word coming out of his mouth and was mesmerized, instead, with how his lips move as he speaks, how the dimple on his chin is more obvious when he smiles and how he smells so awfully of Gabe it’s turning him on badly. And the guilt, the guilt turning his queasy stomach upside down entwined with the exhilarating thrill that Jack knows. How is he going to face Gabe ever again after what they -he- did?

“Second basement floor. Take the elevator.” Jack speaks so patiently McCree never thought he’d be able to give orders like this, much less while he finishes with the bow tie and ghosts his fingers down the lapels of his tuxedo. “I’ll take the stairs and we’ll meet at the southeast corridor. Fourth door on the left.” McCree gives him a jerky nod. “Good choice with that bowtie, kid,” Jack says as a smirk stretches his lips, keeping the close distance of an intimate conversation and arousing McCree in the process. This is his punishment and as soon as he yields or shows any sign of weakness it will go FUBAR. This is a test, and he isn’t failing.

“It ain’t the most comfortable.” McCree snorts, the subtle blush of his cheeks topping a half-smile only marred by a two-day stubble. Jack brought both tuxedos and tossed them on the bed of their hotel room, opening the zipper and taking a sidelong at McCree for what the cowboy deemed too long before finally opening his mouth to speak. “I had to guess your size,” Jack said, his eyes riveting along the length of his body and making him feel naked. “Gabe helped,” he teased, wetting his lips in a gesture that seemed innocent but held knowledge. McCree’s heart leaped then and leaps again now watching the broad frame of the strike commander disappearing on a side hallway that leads to the restrooms and the back stairs.

McCree takes a lungful of air, wishing he had a smoke to burn the tension and to cleanse himself from the heady scent of Jack still lingering around him. What is wrong with him? First Gabe then Jack as though he was in heat. He cannot afford to mess with the commanders, losing Gabe’s friendship because he has the hots for him, or risking an official reprimand falling for Jack’s feigned flirting. He gets in the elevator with five more people who will probably go to the upper levels to enjoy the lounge and the nightclub. A deep sigh leaves his lungs as he waits patiently, ignoring the giggling and endless banter filling the elevator. He brought this on himself when he forgot his place and let his cock do the thinking for him. His stomach curls nice and warm as soon as he remembers.

Reyes had been snatching him two or three times a week to wrestle for years now, right after his workout, when he’s downright weary and wants a shower, a hot meal, and a clean bed. That’s the moment his commander chooses to train together. McCree is nothing from the rascal that Reyes recruited on the Route 66 ten years ago. He has put on weight, he lifts and, even though he will never be as burly as Gabe and the SEP technology turning his body into a killing machine, he’s brawny and beefy and a good adversary. That’s why he guesses Gabe likes training with him. The other recruits are scared to death, other agents don’t bother getting their asses kicked by their commander, and McCree is always up for a good, messy fight. Wrestling, sparring, blowing off steam, it doesn’t matter. Gabe gets him, and he has learned a lot since the first time he bit the dust at the first punch. It’s fun, good training, and he will never say no to the chance of tackling his boss onto the canvas.

But three days ago, everything went to hell. They usually fought close distance, this wasn’t new, but Gabe pushed all his buttons in the bad and the good way, restraining him and turning him mad. His face was red and flushed, a cheek smashed on the canvas while he refused to bend his knees and struggled to stand. It was useless with his left arm twisted back and Gabriel holding it. If he would have wanted, he could have broken his arm or dislocated his shoulder. It infuriated him further on, a jolt of anger coiling down his stomach. “Give up,” Gabriel said. McCree knew the hold was a finishing move, but he was stubborn, and he was pissed, sweaty, and too weary to concede. Gabriel’s grip was slippery by their mingled sweats and McCree naively thought it would give him some kind of advantage. He was so damn wrong.

“No,” he growled, bucking up and finding Gabe’s body weight on his hips, trying to push him down. When McCree tried to turn over, Reyes pinned his other hand to the canvas, and he found himself with his whole body weight at his back and a raging boner staining his sweatpants. It wasn’t the first time he got a boner while wrestling or fighting. He could also note Gabriel’s hard bulge down the small of his back, but that was the first time the need of close contact appeased his anger. McCree rubbed his backside along Gabe in a futile attempt to squirm out of his hold, but the only thing he managed was to grind into his groin. The commander straddled him and forced him down with his body weight, pulling at his arm in a weird angle. Groaning from frustration, McCree yielded, completely pinned down the mattress. Gabriel’s body heat was nigh unbearable, sitting on his ass and straining his erection onto the ring, though the friction offered a much-needed relief he felt ashamed of.

“Jesse,” Gabriel warned.

“No!” McCree yelled. It never goes this far, they usually laugh, he usually yields, but there’s something in how Gabriel pushed him down that made him want to fight him or ask for more. McCree was frustrated, and in love, and horny for him, and he was way too tired that day to hide it like he usually did.

“Sometimes you have to accept you lost so you can live.” The smugness in his throaty voice twisted something inside him. McCree fought with his legs, tried to buck up to no avail, and his struggle turned into a desperate grinding down the canvas and up Gabriel’s cock. Because he was rock hard, and usually, they would’ve had a laugh about it but that night it was a challenge, or so he thought.

“Okay, just lemme go!” McCree lied, and as soon as the grip on his arm loosened and Gabriel hovered over him, he turned over with a speed of action only desperation grants you and, in a side somersault he was on top of Reyes. A wolfish grin erased the anger coiling down on him, replacing it by mischief when Gabriel’s back hit the canvas with a thump. McCree pinned both arms at both sides of his head. Gabriel’s face was a mixture of pride and fear though McCree wasn’t sure at the time why would his commander fear him. “Gotcha,” McCree snarled, spreading his knees to immobilize him. His breath was out of control, his chest fighting to get more air in a steamy atmosphere. It was then when he noticed a jerk right down his balls. Gabe’s hard cock answering to him on top. McCree swallowed thickly, realizing the whistleblower stain on a side of his sweatpants and the erection tenting his pants. There was no way to hide it, no way to pretend he wasn’t aroused and hair-trigger ready to cum.

“Now what?” Reyes whispered as a devilish grin popped on his lips. McCree frowned, staring at those dark pools that were usually hazel but there were all pupil and no iris then. He eased his grip, his forehead falling on Gabriel’s shoulder as he closed his eyes shut and sobbed a sigh. No, there was no way out of here without collateral damage. McCree felt his fingers caressing his wrists, his head turning, lips ghosting over his neck. It was too little and too much.

McCree shifted, sneaking a leg between Gabriel’s thighs intending to stand and flee from there and from him, but Gabe bent his leg, his upper thigh brushing the length of his cock so wonderfully McCree bit back a moan, hiding his shame on the crook of his neck. Then a hot, wet tongue licked the droplets of sweat trickling down his nape and into his neck, a warm breath puffing an unmistakable groan on his skin. “Fuck,” McCree cursed, and he never swears. Gabriel pushed his thigh against his hard bulge eagerly, spurring him on, and McCree breathed out and rocked against it. A rain of soft pecks fell on his neck, too tender for what he was doing. Every thrust died in a groan and took away his pride. McCree was getting off shamelessly on his twenty years older than him commander as though all the blood had been drained from his brain.

“Jesse.” A whisper. Enough one would say. McCree turned his head to face him, and Gabriel did the same. They locked eyes. It wasn’t exactly a kiss, he wouldn’t dare, he let the uncontrolled movement of his hips transfer to his upper body as he fucked his marbled thigh while their lips brushed together in a mess of sweat and spit and daring tongues that wanted to taste and lick everything at their reach. Then it transformed into a kiss, a messy, languid kiss in which he sobbed, and moaned, and cried, and mumbled a blue streak of nonsense as he ground against Gabriel until his cock hurt at the friction and his head was dizzy and heady of him.

McCree came, spilling hot semen on his own ruined sweatpants, his cock jerking and softening as he rubbed against Gabe. It didn’t offer the relief he expected, but it was more than he could’ve asked for. He would never have the chance to do it again, to do it right, to kiss him right, to not be wanton. Gabriel deserved so much better. He already had better, he had Morrison. Almost thirty years old and the best McCree offered was a teenage rut? He mumbled an apology as he stood, wobbly legs making him stumble as a trail of thick cum dripped down his balls, ruining his pride -or what he had left of it-.

“Jesse, wait!” McCree didn’t even turn around when Gabe called for him, he just kept running. To his room, to dwell on his stupidity while he planned how to avoid Gabe for as long as he could until they would forget this happened at all. And the worst part is that he jerked off three times that night only with the vivid image of it still in his mind, with his sweat impregnating his clothes, his scent all over his body, and the memory of the most heartbreaking kiss ingrained on his lips.

Three days ago, and McCree still gets a boner with a glimpse in fast forward on his memory. The elevator empties the intruding party. “Goddamnit,” he curses, introducing the combination code to the lower levels as he breathes out the nerves and adjusts his boxers discreetly. He fucked up and Jack knows.

Morrison attended the event officially, the leader of Overwatch wouldn’t go unnoticed in a fundraiser, but since it suited Maximilien’s cover up the omnic greeted him personally on his arrival and inquired about his husband. Little he knew Overwatch has an eye on him and a folder packed with future operations involving the omnic, Vialli, and Antonio in their conquest for the monopoly of arms smuggling in Europe. The plan is easy, or that’s how Jack put it this morning. Since there will be an official record of the donations, they need to sneak into the server room and connect to the main computer to copy the full list of operations. Names, quantities, dates, and organizations to match with the lists of traffickers they already have, tracking them down to help Overwatch expose them.

Athena provided a map of the place and a device to download the data easily so the AI can decipher the information later and then connect the dots. The elevator stops and opens the doors with a chime, taking McCree out of his daydreaming about his shitty love life. He puts his slip-up aside, for now, craning his head outside the automatic doors. The aisle looks deserted, and he steps out.

McCree’s unarmed, no way to sneak weapons into a casino. It makes him uneasy not having Peacekeeper backing him up tonight, and he has a bad hunch clenching his stomach as he follows the corridor as silently as he can. On the next intersection, he heads south, leaving a fire exit to the back stairs on his right and submerging himself in the depths of the guts of the casino. This is the place that makes everything work, the slot machines, the bets; money flows on the web and fills the same pockets it came out from while they donate a pitiful tip.

A flick on the emergency lights startles McCree, and he stops at a halt. The security patrol will reach this aisle in a few moments according to the information he has, and he needs to find the server room as fast as possible. Fourth door. Left. When McCree is about to enter the code Athena provided, a voice stops his heart treacherously. “I had to take a detour,” Jack says, and McCree sighs, his body relaxing as he glances over his shoulder at Jack.

“Well, with that pretty face of yours I bet someone recognized you,” McCree chuckles and then curses under his nose at the blatant flirting. “Damn it,” he clicks his tongue.

“What is it?” Jack leans on his shoulder, glancing at the failed code popping a red message on the display and not unlocking the door. He reaches for the comms behind his ear. “Athena, we need a new code.” He quickly gets the confirmation. “The code provided will work again in a minute and thirty seconds, Mr. Morrison.” McCree curses again when the information reaches his communicator too. Loud steps at the end of the corridor send a shudder down his spine, and the commander and McCree turn around at the same time with a knot between his eyebrows. This isn’t going as planned and they don’t have a minute to spare.

“Sir?” McCree asks a bit anxiously, ready to put up a fight even in this narrow aisle. A surely armed and prepared patrol is heading to their direction. Jack hesitates, the steps and a faint banter looming over them, security just around the corner. There is nowhere to hide, nowhere to run. The dimly illuminated aisle offers no cover. They need to buy some time, an alibi, a distraction… a smirk grows wide on Jack’s lips as he locks eyes with McCree.

“Kiss me.” A command or a suggestion McCree has no time to dwell on it because his breath seizes and his heart goes for a sprint.

“What?” McCree braces himself on the door behind him, a clammy hand damping the cold surface.

“You heard me,” Jack whispers, cocking his head to the imminent menace threatening the whole operation and bringing on a lot of unwanted questions. He leans back on the opposite wall, beckoning McCree with his hand and watching, smugly, how McCree peels his back off the metal door and obeys without taking his eyes off of him. He stops at a halt in front of Jack, confused whiskey-colored eyes staring into the bluest of skies. “Do I have to show you how?” The words die in a gasp when McCree presses the length of his body against him and pins him to the wall, his mouth hovering over his lips for half a second before he mumbles a curse and crushes their mouths together in a sloppy kiss. May Gabe forgive him for this.

The steps disappear into the back of his head, the only thing McCree listens to is his treacherous, thumping heart. Jack’s hands wind over his shoulders and bristle all the little hairs at his nape as the kiss intensifies. McCree parts his rosy lips with a naughty tongue, an unnecessary bold move yes, but Jack’s chuckle goads him to deepen the kiss and curls his stomach nice and warm. He thrusts his tongue inside, his hands gripping firmly his waist without daring to grope for his ass. That’d be bold, it’s enough he tastes the wonders of his mouth so shamelessly he knows he will regret it. The red comes up his cheeks, panting for air, but Jack’s tongue mingles with his and a faint moan from the strike commander goes right to his cock. McCree curses how this is awakening his previous erection into a firm mast hard to hide. If he was in trouble before he’s in deep shit now.

“Hey! Who’s there?” McCree backs off, his tongue finally leaving his commander’s mouth. He finds electric blue eyes sparkling with mischief and a gentle blush covering his cheeks. A smug half-smile curls the corner of his mouth upward and, for a moment, he forgets about the two guys staring at them wearing forbidding faces. Now it’s time to see if their little game was worth the trouble, though, to McCree, it already has. “You cannot be in here.”

“M’sorry, folks,” McCree says, clearing his throat as the armed couple gets closer to them, though they don’t even draw their weapons. It worked, and a brief glance at Jack reveals he is thinking exactly the same. His usually thin lips glisten in his spit and stretch in a smirk that reminds him of Gabe. He’s witnessing a side of his other commander tonight he never thought existed, even though he’s screwed.

“You two are coming with us.” The guard on the right reaches for the radio on the lapel of his jacket while the other beckons to them, but McCree only steps away to give Jack free of movement. It’s now or never.

McCree throws a sucker punch with his left at the guy in front of him, sending him right into a wall while Jack springs to a side, grabs the collar of the second one and lands a precise blow on a side of his neck, right below his ear. The guy rolls his eyes up and faints at the added pressure on the vegas nerve. At least he won’t need ice on his hand later tonight. Jack places the unconscious guard on the floor and snorts when McCree knocks the other one with a mean jab below the jaw. The guard slides down the wall, slumping on the floor with a bleeding nose. McCree rolls his shoulders back to unwind and grins at Jack. “Now we have to hurry,” he drawls.

“A southpaw,” Jack says, dusting the jacket of his tuxedo.

“I’m full of surprises.”

“So, I’ve been told,” Jack teases, but the crackling of the security guards radio startles them.

McCree crouches near one of the guards, taking the radio in hand and clearing his throat. “False alarm,” he says. _Inform of the situation_ , a distorted voice demands. “Just a couple looking for a private place, if you know what I mean,” McCree says, glancing up at Jack and praying for the deception to work without further interrogation. _Take_ _care of it_ _. Central out._ McCree whistles in relief, smashing the radio device on the floor and standing.

“I can’t believe it worked.” Jack snorts. McCree turns to the door between chuckles and tries again the same code as before. A beep and a green light pop on the display and the door opens.

“After you,” McCree drawls and Jack gets inside while he holds the door for him.

The room rumbles with the noise of a row of computers, and while McCree holds the door open and keeps an eye on the guards, Jack sits behind a desk and inserts the device on one of the USB ports. “It should take less than a minute,” he says and McCree nods. Athena confirms the download of the information through the comms, and McCree ambles toward Jack, standing at his back and staring at the screen and the loading bar quickly filling up.

“Are they still out?” Jack asks, glancing up at McCree’s stern expression as he seems lost in his thoughts.

“Yeah,” he says, the corner of his mouth twitching upward briefly. “Jack, I…” McCree mumbles without thinking, not sure of what he wants to say or how. A simultaneous flick on the lights and the screen interrupts him, and a purple glowing skull pops on the monitor as soon as the download finishes.

Jack hustles to unplug the device. “Athena?” he asks and the AI quickly replies. “All information is safe and transferred to a quarantine server prior to decryption.” A sigh of relief leaves Jack and McCree’s lungs in unison while they stare at the mocking symbol still on the screen.

“What the hell is that?” McCree snarls, pointing with his chin.

“Looks like someone else wanted this information,” Jack says, standing and facing McCree. “We can’t worry about that now. Let’s go.” He squeezes his shoulder on his way out and the cowboy follows close, glancing briefly at the guards starting to wake up. They take a right turn and head to the elevator once more.

When they get inside and they input the code for the hall level, an alarm goes off, turning all the emergency lights of the corridor a bright, glaring red. The noise and the light fade as the elevator doors close and they share a conspiratorial glance. They expected security to notice eventually, so now they only have to leave the casino through the main door while Maximilien takes care of the supposed leak. If they’re lucky enough, the unexpected hacker trying to collect the information will take the blame and not them.

Jack gets out of the elevator with a smug smile and a calmness that make McCree snort. This is not the strike commander he knew. “Party’s over,” McCree says when the cold breeze of the night slaps them. “Now what?”

“Now we go for a drink, kid,” Jack says, winking at him as he tosses the keys of the car to McCree who barely catches them mid-air. The answer terrifies him, his stomach curls, and he dreads the scolding and mocking because yes, he masturbated all over his husband and no, he regrets not a damn thing about it. The previous kiss lurks into his mind to make the situation all the better.

A discreet club almost empty at these early hours of the night covers the promptness of their interrupted party. McCree tossed the bow tie on the backseat as soon as he sat behind the wheel, unbuttoning his neck and breathing in a much-needed intake of air. Jack laughed at the gesture, shaking his head in disapproval. This is what he does with Gabe, they get the job done and then they enjoy themselves and share some moments together because McCree likes to think they are more than just commander and subordinate. He misses Gabe, he’s glad Jack isn’t an asshole as he is when he steps into the strike commander façade, but there’s an itch that tells him that something is very wrong and that a scolding is coming if not something worse.

Jack lifts himself on a stool at the counter and McCree sits at his right. An already flustered waitress approaches them with a shy smile and glittering eyes at a couple of strangers in a tuxedo that just appeared to cheer up her night shift. The corner of his mouth pulls upward, they make quite the pair of handsome men all tidy up and directly out of an old James Bond movie. He wears a wolfish grin and tousled hair -not to speak of the swollen knuckles-, but that never prevented him from looking devastatingly gorgeous. Jack instead, smiles politely and McCree notes again the dimple on his chin and the softness of his features. He’s a sight for sore eyes and he curses inwardly his own frankness of thoughts. He definitely shouldn’t be having them. But Jack’s damn gorgeous, as though he couldn’t kill you with his thumb if he wanted. “What can I get you?” A honeyed voice asks as she approaches them.

“A beer, thank you,” Jack says, noting how she fixes her eyes on a very distracted McCree and her smile widens.

“And you?” Jack chuckles softly at the blush on her cheeks, but before McCree opens his mouth, he answers for him.

“He’ll have a double whiskey. Neat.” She nods and turns about when McCree is about to mumble a thank you. “I bet you’ll get out of here with a phone number…” McCree snorts.

“I ain’t interested,” McCree says, leaning on his elbows and playing with a coaster. “How do you know what I drink?” The stupidity of his question reaches his brain a tad too late. Gabe.

“That’s how Gabe likes it,” Jack replies, welcoming with a nod the beer the waitress serves in front of him. “One acquires quite a few tastes around him, am I wrong?” McCree blushes, thanking the waitress with a smile while his inner turmoil starts all over.

“Yeah.” That’s the only thing he says before he takes a long gulp and his throat burns in the most delicious way. No whiskey could erase the taste of the kiss with Jack nor the way he feels about Gabe. Jack sips his beer with a superstitious curl of the lips at McCree’s struggle. “I bet you’re a big fan of those old-fashioned cowboy movies, ain’t you?” Perhaps the right amount of alcohol and small talk can get him out of this and into the safety of their hotel room faster.

“I thought I was…” Jack says. “Until I met you.” He lifts his beer playfully at him, and McCree does the same with his drink in a silent toast.

“Fair enough.” McCree chuckles, realizing Jack is looking at him as he did earlier and it brings a furrow between his eyebrows and an indecent curl on his stomach.

“You look almost respectable tonight,” Jack praises. Who is this relaxed man at his side? McCree wonders. Jack drinking a beer and praising his looks when the most he gets at meetings is a scolding or a glare. McCree realizes he never shared a moment like this with him that he never saw Jack except for at work. The strike commander follows the rules, doesn’t joke around like Gabe does, and spends most of his evenings trapped in an office buried in paperwork, according to Gabe. But it turns out outside that asshole façade he assumed was the real thing, there’s a man that can kill you barehanded but sports the most beautiful smile he has ever seen.

Jack jokes about the mission tonight, shares a few smiles and furtive glances and the second round of drinks are on the table before McCree notices how fast times goes by. This is the man Gabriel Reyes fell for hard and now he gets it. He couldn’t put two and two together, wondering why was Gabe so invested in someone so stern and snooty. A few glimpses at work parties or celebrations weren’t enough to make up his mind. This is the real Jack Morrison.

“Why are you here?” McCree asks.

“Hm?” Jack frowns, sipping his beer.

“Why ain’t Reyes here,” McCree repeats. “It’s our kind of inside job.”

“I was invited,” Jack shrugs. “Gabe was going to come with me but he has a cold.” McCree cannot hide the surprise on his face. “You’re his best agent and he chose you to replace him.” McCree blinks twice, suddenly doubtful if Jack knows or not.

“Oh,” he gasps. “Is he okay?” If Gabe sent him along with Jack on a mission right before he made a fool of himself on their last training session, his boss really has a sick sense of humor, or perhaps is his way of telling him they aren’t working together anymore.

“He’ll be fine by the time we come back,” Jack dismisses quickly his worries but squints at the thin line marring the usual half-smile that conquers McCree’s face day or night, tired or rested, it doesn’t matter. The cowboy is softness and fluffiness unless you piss him off. “Speak your mind.” McCree hesitates for a moment, considering his options. If Jack knows, he isn’t upset, probably Gabe’s the one pissed at him. McCree sighs, he would know if he hadn’t avoided him for three days or run away from his fuck up instead of facing the shameful truth. Nevertheless, he has to answer Jack and he won’t have another chance like this for a heart to heart with the husband of the man he wants. He thought he could keep it to himself, get over this crush eventually, but he cannot just disappear from their lives as though nothing happened.

“I didn’t expect you to be like this,” McCree says, sipping his whiskey more for courage than for thirst. “Reyes is my commander and you usually make our work harder.” He sighs, not knowing how to get out of this mess. “I just thought you had a stick up your ass twenty-four seven.”

“Wow,” Jack says, eyes wide open in surprise before a clean laugh leaves his lungs.

“M’sorry,” McCree says. “I never thought working with you would be like working with Gabe. I mean, Reyes.”

“That’s fine,” Jack chuckles. “I told you to speak freely.” He nudges McCree, stealing a half-smile and erasing the worrisome wrinkles around his eyes. “It doesn’t surprise me. You’re _his_ guy after all.”

“I like working with him,” McCree confesses with a dopey smile. “He’s the first friend I made in Blackwatch even though I know it’s not appropriate to get close to your superiors.” The red comes up his cheeks when he remembers how he got a lot more than close to him, crossing a line he cannot cross back now even if he wanted.

“Let’s not worry about that.” Jack grants him an all-knowing smile. “I married him.” McCree breathes out a long exhale before he finishes his second whiskey and beckons the waitress for a third one. Why the hell not, he seems to be breaking all the rules lately. Jack senses the endless rumble on McCree’s mind and feels a tad guilty about their kiss earlier. “You can’t believe how impossible he made my life until I accepted you under his command,” Jack says.

“Straight out of the Deadlock Gang?” McCree says, a sad smile creeping up his face when he remembers his old friends and how he left without even saying goodbye. Not that he had much choice in the matter. The jail wasn’t an option.

“I should’ve locked you down, Jesse McCree,” Jack says, glancing at him. “But Gabe kept saying you were good, that he could train you and you’d be the best of best among Overwatch.” McCree blushes slightly. He did work his ass off in Blackwatch and found a more fulfilling way of living than stealing and messing around with lower gangs for control and power.

“I ain’t shit,” McCree dismisses. “I was given an opportunity, and I took it.”

“What I mean is Gabe has always been fond of you,” Jack says, pausing for a moment to gather his thoughts. “And as a strike commander I know you’re our best undercover agent and nothing can change that.” McCree beams at him, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. “Although Genji Shimada follows you close.”

“The ninja.” McCree shakes his head. “He doesn’t talk much, but he’s a good guy. He’s been through some tough shit.”

“Haven’t we all?” Jack says, winking at him and realizing that Gabe was right all along, that there was no way to stop this, no way to run or hide because the moment Jesse McCree enters your life, you’re doomed to love the cowboy with all you’ve got. “You like me better now?” Jack asks.

“I know you don’t have a stick up your ass for sure.” McCree stirs the whiskey and takes a peek at Jack before the commander laughs.

“Not every day, Jesse,” Jack teases.

“I’ll drink to that!” And they did, they drank until walking straight was a challenge and driving not an option, so they just walked to their hotel through wet, deserted streets, clinging to each other for support and warmth, talking about Gabe and missing him already. The only things that echoed in the streets were their mingled laughs and distant vehicles.

McCree feels as though this is another world, another reality, his strike commander isn’t holding his waist and fisting his jacket as they trudge their way through the corridor trying to find their room. This isn’t happening, but the headache tomorrow will be. And after an hour in the cold night and the improvised walk, they’re not that drunk anymore but they still bunch together.

“I never get drunk,” Jack mumbles, rummaging in his pocket for the card key of their room, finally letting go of McCree’s body.

“Poor Indiana boy,” McCree teases. “Can’t handle his liquor.” A shared chuckle dies when the dim light of the room envelopes them and the door closes with a thump.

“Hey, I’m our superior officer,” Jack says, arching an eyebrow and throwing his jacket on one of the single beds.

“Not tonight.” McCree clicks his tongue, running a hand through his hair and watching Jack’s expression change from something playful and innocent to something else entirely, something fierce and dangerous.

“Not tonight.” The raspy voice of the commander reaches his ears and curls his spine. The world crumbles at his feet when Jack prowls toward him, getting rid of the bow tie. His baby blue irises are a thin line surrounding a black void and pinning him in place. McCree swallows, unbuttoning distractedly the jacket of his tuxedo only to realize it’s already opened. The room spins, and he isn’t _that_ drunk. It’s because of him, of what this is leading to and he’ll have no self-control to stop.

In the blink of an eye, Jack is towering over him, a hand on the wall near his waist and the other at one side of his head. McCree wants another taste of him, of those lips from earlier that left him wanting more, so he glides his tongue along his parted lips and Jack smirks. McCree lifts his chin slightly, defiant, a clear invitation to take his mouth and be free of all responsibility here, but Jack doesn’t fall for it. “Come on,” McCree mumbles, his ragged breath betraying him, his body aching because Jack’s too close but not enough to push his body against him. He clutches at his impeccable white shirt and pulls him onward another inch. Jack’s smirk widens.

“What if I want to blow you?” Jack says in a sultry whisper that instantly awakens his cock.

“I ain’t the one married,” McCree quips, cursing his big mouth and scared of ruining the moment, but he doesn’t want to hurt Gabe. If this is some kind of bullshit revenge he doesn’t want to be part of it. He cares about him, but now that he thinks about it, Jack would never hurt him on purpose either.

“Marriage is not the end of the world,” Jack says, nuzzling at his cheek as he shifts and presses his body in a full-body caress that steals a groan from McCree. The slightest friction against his cock drives him mad with desire, and while he fists his shirt his other hand gropes for his ass and squeezes. “You’re thinking too much.” Jack wets his lips, they’re so close their chests fight for space as they breathe. “Gabe says you’re all instincts when you’re in the battlefield.” The corner of McCree’s mouth pulls upward in a half-smile. “Follow your gut.”

McCree takes his mouth with urgency, a sloppy clash of teeth that follows with a wet tongue tainted by the many whiskeys he had earlier and the bitter taste of beer. He pushes Jack onward, fingertips digging into his ass while their hips grind together and he fears the same end than he endured with Gabe three days ago. A faint chuckle interrupts the kiss, their foreheads pressing together, lips ghosting over each other reluctant to pull away. “Is that a yes? You can still get away from this.”

“Yes,” McCree gasps while Jack’s hands sneak between their bodies and stop at the hem of his trousers.

“You sure?” Jack asks once more. He doesn’t want to impose, Gabe’s going to kill him for taking a bite of the cowboy without him, but he can worry about his husband tomorrow.

“Damn sure,” McCree grunts, helping Jack to unfasten his trousers and pry open his fly. He’s steel-hard so fast it doesn’t really surprise him, but when Jack pulls his boxers down and wraps a hand around him, he lets out a pitiful moan and his cock jerks and shoots a clear spurt.

“You’re big,” Jack whispers into his mouth, his thumb smearing pre-cum over the tip in gentle circles. Judging by his breath and how he responds to him, he could make him come in his tight fist in two tugs.

“Afraid you can’t take it?” McCree teases, regretting his bravado when Jack pulls at his lower lip and suckles at the same time his hand squeezes and twists his girth. If you’re going to dip into the depths of hell you better do it right.

“Let’s see how long _you_ can take it,” Jack teases before he crouches and drops to his knees in front of him. McCree braces himself on the wall behind because watching Jack Morrison kneeling between his legs with his cock still enveloped by a welcoming hand is too much to handle.

Jack grabs him by the hilt with two fingers, pulling his skin back and breathing hotly on the head as he opens his mouth and his tongue flicks on the underside so teasingly his legs tremble. McCree thanks the dim light and hopes it covers the red on his cheeks while he braces himself on Jack's shoulders and glances down at him impatiently. Jack cherishes the gentle furrow between his eyebrows, a silent plea for more, and slides the tip of his cock inside the molten heat of his mouth, his tongue twirling and mixing saliva with his salty taste to ease his way. McCree groans so loudly he turns a new shade of red. “More, please,” he blurts out.

While his left hustles to free his cock, Jack sucks, slowly, patiently, his mouth wavering around him as he sinks him in inch by inch. McCree’s girth stretches his lips and fills his mouth wonderfully, and before he reaches his knuckles the swollen head taps the back of his throat. It’s so thrilling Jack bites back a moan as he gags, swallowing him whole until his spit-covered lips rub against his own fingers. McCree’s thick and big and he wouldn’t expect any less from him.

“Goddamn, you’re good,” McCree moans at the throat constricting his cock, his hips fighting the urge to thrust forward as he grips bruisingly his shoulder while his other hand roams his way to the crook of his neck, aching to touch skin, to sense his pulsing point fluttering by excitement.

McCree sways his hips gently, meeting Jack’s movements and reveling in the softness of his tongue brushing on the underside of his cock. He takes the end of his shirt and holds it in his mouth, keeping it out of the way before his hand returns to Jack’s shoulder. A treacherous thought invades his mind as he imagines Gabe watching them, getting off by this, by them together and wondering when will be his turn or if he’ll get fucked at all. McCree has no idea how Jack and Gabe are together, how they frisk in tumbled sheets in the darkest hours of the night or the earliest lights of the morning, but he wants to find out badly. He wants more of this, of them, of Gabe. His fantasies fly free for the first time in months. He’s been holding back for too long, avoiding jerking off thinking about Gabe, or Jack and Gabe fucking together, but it’s always been there, like an itch he was too scared to scratch, and what a way to scratch it with both in the same week.

Then McCree glimpses a too familiar movement on his shoulder. Jack fucking Morrison getting off while sucking him. His cock jerks and he thrusts forward at the same time he pushes Jack onward by his nape, his thumb caressing his stretched throat as he fills him and fucks his mouth with another desperate onslaught. Jack closes his eyes and lets him take control, delighted by the hot shaft assailing his mouth and stealing his breath away. He focuses on the clammy fist pumping his own erection in an impossibly fast rhythm, seeking his end. The shirt strokes his forehead when McCree lets go of it. His eagerness fuels him, the blue streak of moans and curses filling the room, the wild abandon in which he pursues his pleasure and finds it at the back of his throat.

When McCree comes, he swivels forward and shoves his twitching cock inside his mouth balls-deep. Jack nuzzles at the hair of his groin, inhaling deeply through his nostrils before a hot gush of cum trickles down his throat. He gargles a moan, swallowing around him and milking him dry, taking everything he offers. Jack ruins his trousers spilling white spurts on his thigh, unable to hold back his orgasm with that impossible thickness straining his throat. It’s too late to stop, and he commits to his climax with McCree’s softening cock still in his mouth. And he suckles for as long as he can, his cum dripping down his knuckles. McCree’s cock jerks once more at the overstimulation. Jack would love to start all over again to get more of the sweet price the cowboy had for him.

“Damn, Jack,” McCree gasps, his legs a wobbly mess threatening to stumble into the floor along with Jack if not for the wall behind him. Jack sucks as he drags him out slowly, he knows he could get him hard again in the heat of his mouth with patience and a lovely tongue twirling around his cock, but he’s overstepped a hundred boundaries today, the alcohol pounding into his head and reminding him he’s not twenty anymore.

Jack stands, cleaning his hand in his own shirt and, tucking McCree’s cock in the boxers, his trousers still holding around his hips. McCree cups his face and traps his swollen lips in a tender-hearted peck that brings a smile to his face. Soft, sweet cowboy, just as Gabe. McCree slides his hand into his trousers and finds a spent cock instead of the raging erection he was hoping for. He lets out an adorable pout of disappointment. “I wanted to…”

“Tomorrow,” Jack interrupts, kissing his lips once more and sliding McCree’s jacket down his shoulders. “When you’re sober. Come to bed.” McCree’s hooded lids are a telltale of how terribly tired and suddenly hangover he is, the intensity of his orgasm has taken the little energy he had left in him after the tension of the past days.

“I am perfectly sober,” he protests, as Jack grabs him by the hand and leads him to bed. The commander toes off his shoes and lies on the mattress, watching how McCree stumbles, trying to do the same and slumping at his side.

“You okay?” Jack asks, welcoming McCree on his chest as the cowboy snuggles into him and breathes against his shirt. Jack fixes the pillow underneath his head before it’s too late and a six feet tall cowboy traps him in the bed.

“Gabe’s gonna kill us,” McCree mumbles, his breathing slowing down as he throws an arm and a leg over Jack and cages him. He doesn’t mind being dressed or clinging to his strike commander, McCree relaxes and falls asleep from one heartbeat to another.

“Yeah, Gabe told me you were the snuggly type too.” Jack smiles to himself, closing his eyes. The only answer is a balmy rumble that reminds him of his husband and makes him miss him a little less tonight.

McCree snuggles into the body at his side, inhaling the first conscious breath of the morning right at the base of his nape. It smells like summer and Gabe, and a dopey smile creeps up his face, eyes still closed, until he remembers who’s the one sleeping next to him. He and Gabe have shared the bed in the past, they have woken up together, talked very early in the morning when neither of them is really very talkative on a daily basis, and he’s just as comfortable with Jack as he is with Gabe. He groans shyly at the annoying pounding on his head and the uncomfortable feeling of sleeping in your clothes, but the warmth of Jack eases the mild hangover though not his confused heart.

Jack is dressed too, except for their jackets and shoes, and last night comes back like a surge. His lips, his electric blue eyes, the wet, hot cave of his mouth and how he shamelessly let Jack blow him. McCree squeezes Jack’s chest, his cheek on his upper back, following his steady breathing and dreading the moment they leave the bed and everything turns into nothing. He should stand and take a shower, his ass is cold because his trousers are around his thighs and an impertinent morning wood presses on Jack’s back. McCree cannot remember how did he end up like this, but he should really stop lingering in bed with the strike commander in this undignified attire before it’s too late. A firm hand gropes for his ass when he tries to slide his arm free of Jack.

“Where are you going?” Jack mumbles with a raspy morning voice, and McCree’s stomach curls nice and warm.

“I thought…” he whispers, his breath puffing on his nape.

“Don’t think.” Jack sneaks his hand in McCree’s boxers and kneads a cold butt cheek, arching his back into his hard cock to tempt him. He doesn’t know what time is it, probably too early or too late. It doesn’t really matter.

“Yes, sir,” McCree jests. Of course, the cowboy is ready for more and there’s nothing he wants more right now than indulge a bit more in this before they go back to Switzerland.

“You’re hard.” He marks the words with a sway of his ass, squirming out of his unfastened trousers and underwear just enough to be skin against skin. McCree takes the hint and swoops his boxers down, his cock prodding between his butt cheeks.

He maps with kisses his nape as he runs the tip of his cock across his rim. “I don’t have lube,” McCree blurts out, his mind lost in the puffy ass at his reach and how much he would love to sink himself in Jack and fuck him until lunch. The commander chuckles, stroking his own length and slowly turning it into a full erection. McCree teasing at his ass with the swollen tip of his cock is too tempting and does the trick just fine.

“We can’t fuck,” Jack says, and even though he isn’t looking at him, he guesses the disappointment all over his face. McCree squeezes his length, leaving a glistening trail on his ass and cursing how true it is that as soon as they leave this bed it’ll be over. He needs to ask him, so McCree glues himself at his back, his cock trapped between his butt cheeks while he moves away Jack’s hand and takes his cock into a warm, callous hand. Jack’s big too, and so soft he would love to be kissing his cock from root to tip for the rest of the day. He lets out a groan at the same time Jack moans and rocks his hips into a loose fist.

“You know, don’t you?” McCree whispers, tightening the grip on his hand and moving it in long strokes.

“I do,” Jack says with a mischievous smile.

“Damn,” McCree curses, nuzzling behind his ear while the red comes up his cheeks. Jack notes the embarrassment and there’s no need for it.

“I know something happened, Jesse,” Jack explains. “Gabe didn’t want to tell me what, and I respected it, that’s between you two and I trust him.” The words are like a balm to his soul, firstly because he would like to talk to Gabe and apologize for running away and second because now Jack’s actions seem less intentioned and more truthful. But McCree remains silent, his hand pumping Jack’s cock slowly, his breath puffing on his neck as he absorbs the words.

“I…” McCree mumbles. “I care ‘bout him.”

“He’s worried because you won’t talk to him,” Jack says, resting his hand over McCree’s more for comfort than for guidance. The cowboy knows exactly what he’s doing.

“I thought he’d be disappointed.” Jack snorts. It didn’t go unnoticed to him how close they were, and how wholesome Gabe was for Jesse and the other way around. It took time to get used to the idea of his husband being in love with McCree, but in the end, he loves him more than life itself, and his happiness it’s the best reward when they fall asleep at night. Gabe would have never started it if McCree didn’t cross the line himself, but now that he did, there’s nothing to lose. Jack wants his husband happy and not drowning in an unrequited love that is clearly mistaken.

“We’ll have time to talk about it later,” Jack says, urging McCree’s hand faster. “Now make me come.” McCree groans, fisting his cock and moving his hand faster. “Just like that,” Jack moans.

“I ain’t in a hurry,” McCree whispers, his arm brushing Jack’s side as he jerks him off.

“Me neither.” Jack turns his head about to find McCree’s parted mouth waiting for a kiss. “But I want you to slide between my thighs and we need something better than spit to ease the way, kid.” McCree moans into his mouth, his hand stopping briefly before the relentless pace he has set resumes. Jack chuckles, biting his lower lip and gliding a tongue along them before he dips inside. McCree opens his mouth and melts into the kiss, coating his palm into the pre-cum oozing at the tip before he grips a slippery hand around his shaft and pumps Jack’s cock as though he was just rubbing one off in his bunk. Jack spurs him on with praises mumbled against his mouth. “Don’t stop,” he whines before his body stiffens and his ragged breath comes out in moans. McCree’s wrist does the job as he cups the head. He feels the twitch of his cock in his hand and the spurt of cum on his fingers. He strokes and squeezes until the very last drop, his own neglected cock leaking pre-cum and begging for a tug. “Good job,” Jack teases, a bit breathless, and McCree chuckles.

Jack shifts to a side and McCree lets go of his softened cock. He wraps a hand coated in cum around his length and slicks it while Jack offers a welcoming ass. McCree buries his face in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply the sweaty scent of last night and this morning while he runs his hand between his butt cheeks, teasing at his ass and down between his legs, smearing the remains of his spilled lust and even risking a gentle squeeze at his balls. He spreads him and slides his cock between his thighs. “So warm,” he breathes out. McCree fondles his ass cheek and sways his hips back and forth while Jack presses his thighs together and revels in the thick cock prodding at his balls and sliding so temptingly he wished he was ready to take him inside instead. This is a sweet torture.

“Are you thinking about him, Jesse?” Jack teases when the thrusts become erratic and a languid tongue licks behind his ear. McCree curses, his nails leaving crescent moon indents on his skin while he keeps him in place. It’s not as tight as he would like to, but it’s warm and slick and so soft McCree’s already on edge. Let’s not forget it’s the strike commander’s ass he’s slamming over and over as he thrusts between his legs.

“Yes,” McCree grunts, an adorable blush tinting his cheeks.

“Naughty boy,” Jack mumbles, his hand groping back for McCree’s ass while he focuses on keeping his legs well huddled together. “He would love to watch us now.”

“Damn,” McCree curses while the noise of his hips slapping on his ass fills the room. “I want Gabe to fuck me,” he gasps. “I want you too…” Jack smiles, it’s not a surprise anymore. Perhaps Gabe will scold him for this, but McCree needed to forget all the worries in his mind because he did nothing wrong. Maybe this is just a fling or something more -he knows Gabe’s head over heels for Jesse- but he realizes this is something they need, something they want, something that has to happen regardless of the consequences. It’s too late to think about the consequences, but if it feels so good it can’t be wrong.

“Well, I’ll tell you what Gabe told me in SEP,” Jack teases, feeling McCree’s frantic thrusts intensify all of a sudden. “If you want my ass, earn it.”

“I reckon I’m doing a great job so far,” McCree says, a wolfish grin on his lips before he clenches his teeth on Jack’s neck and fucks between his thighs more wildly. McCree drools around the grip on his flesh while he slams fast and hard and comes embraced by the heat of his thighs and the slickness of cum. The head of his cock brushes against his balls and sends a whole body shudder down his spine at the same time his climax runs over him. He pants and exhales a needy groan, keeping the friction going as he comes, making a true mess of Jack.

“That’s it,” Jack praises, the hard shaft softening and slipping at his back, unable to keep itself between his thighs. A hot gush of cum trickles at both sides of his leg and he smiles when McCree sneaks both arms around him, one over his chest and the other underneath his neck, bringing him onward in a tight hug while endless kisses fall on his ear. “You’re too sweet, Jesse,” Jack says. It’s not a complaint but a fact, he finds it adorable and wonders how would he be with Gabe. His cock fights to stand firmly again at the mere thought of watching them together. His husband belonging to someone else, enjoying sex with McCree while he bites his tongue and waits for his turn. If it arrives at all.

“And you’re missing the real deal, darlin’,” McCree teases.

“If you call me that again, I’ll kick your ass, kid,” Jack says, nudging him with his elbow and feeling McCree’s gentle chuckle behind him. “How about a shower?”

“Five more minutes,” McCree mumbles, breathing in the sweet scent of his boss and the raunchy sex staining the sheets.


	2. Chapter 2

A week ago, the idea of leaving Blackwatch drowned in shame for what he did crossed his mind, and now he smiles nervously in front of Reyes’ quarters gathering the courage to knock. Coming back at the base was easier than he expected. His night with Jack and the morning after, far from confusing him further on, brought the clarity and confidence he needed in his heart. McCree could do nothing about his crush on Gabe or his attraction to Jack, but their marriage isn’t a problem anymore. How this will turn out in the long run is a mystery to him, he doubts neither Jack nor Gabe planned nothing further than tonight.

When they arrived, Gabe was waiting for them, he kissed Jack and patted McCree’s back as though nothing had happened, but didn’t dare to say a word then, not wanting to overwhelm him. The next day surely Jack had told him about their liaison in Monaco, and Gabe sent a message to him offering, if he wanted, to talk and finish what they started on the training room. McCree instantly blushed at the blatant offer. He had nothing to think about, he knew he’d go and that he’d be ready for more than a soft-heartened talk.

McCree knocks twice when the prospect of kissing Gabe presents itself clearly in his mind.

Gabriel opens the door quickly, a smile popping on his face as soon as he eyes McCree. “Come in,” he says, beckoning him inside.

“Howdy,” McCree says, feeling suddenly so silly. The commander’s lodgings are way bigger than his shared bunk. A couch and an improvised desk on the coffee table presides a space used as a living room; at the right, there’s a small bathroom with a very tempting shower and the bedroom at the end. McCree takes a peek at a corner of the bed and his stomach curls nice and warm. The light of the streetlights seeps through a small window, such a luxury for a room in the main headquarters. A hand on his shoulder brings him to the present, and he sighs. “M’sorry I didn’t come to talk to you sooner,” McCree says, turning about to find Gabe’s gaze full of repent and hope.

“I didn’t mean to push you, Jesse,” Gabriel says, scratching the beard on his jaw. “I know it’s complicated, and I had no right to…” McCree gets closer to him, smiling because they didn’t even reach the couch and the words seem to overwhelm them both and blurt out in a mixture of apology and shared emotions they cannot put into a logical sentence.

“I wanted it to happen.” Gabe always tells him to keep it simple. “I want you.”

“Jesse,” Gabriel gasps, winding an arm around McCree’s neck and pulling him closer in a half-hug. He breathes him in and breathes the nerves out. “I want you too,” he whispers into his ear, McCree rounding tenderly his waist with both arms like he has wanted to do many times. This is so different from the sheer lust of their previous encounter. It’s not that his body isn’t responding to Gabe but that the hug soothes his heart and gives him a peace of mind he longed for.

“Then let me kiss ya’ properly and not that thing I did on the ring,” McCree whispers with a hint of pride on his voice. Gabe chuckles, backing off enough to meet his gaze. Whiskey-colored eyes pin him in place, and Gabriel wonders what did he do in this life to deserve Jack and then Jesse.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Gabriel says. “You seemed to like it…” he teases.

“Too soon to joke ‘bout it,” McCree mumbles, a half-smile stretching his lips as the throaty chuckle of Gabriel fills his ears. “C’mere,” he whispers, cocking his head to a side and ghosting his lips over Gabe’s. His warm breath puffs into his mouth, and McCree closes his eyes, waiting for him this time. Gabriel caresses his neck with a big, callous hand as their lips seal together. His heart leaps, his breath seizes, and he gasps into his mouth as the telltale of how good those lips feel over his own. A tongue glides between his lips, parting his mouth and deepening the kiss, and McCree moans, pressing his body against him, his hands doubtful if they should keep traveling down or keep themselves respectably gripping his waist.

_Follow your gut._

McCree moans, groping for his ass and turning Gabe around, pushing him until his upper back thumps on the nearest wall. The commander grunts, opening his mouth and welcoming McCree’s playful tongue inside. He fondles his ass so shamelessly it takes no time before his cock grows hard in the confinement of his trousers. “You didn’t invite me here to talk,” McCree whispers into his mouth, reveling in how Gabriel lets him touch, and kiss, and bite like the most dutiful lover. He’s like putty into his hands and he intends to exploit it.

“Eager,” Gabriel teases, a devilish grin stretching his lips turning their kiss into a mating of tongues. McCree moans, grinding his body against him in a gentle sway, sensing Gabriel’s arousal right into his thigh. “I want you to be safe,” Gabriel gasps when McCree moves a hot mouth right into his neck, kissing and biting just how he likes it and it’s impossible he knows how he likes it. “And…” his ragged breath and the blue streak of bites of the ruthless cowboy are so much better than he expected. This doesn’t feel good, this feels right, and it doesn’t scare him anymore, not when Jack’s all in too. “And I want you in my bed, now.” A low grunt and a bite steal a moan from him, and only Jack knows how to do that. Gabriel wants this too, have wanted it for so long if not for the bites of McCree he would believe he’s dreaming. He has a fulfilling marriage with Jack, but he and McCree got closer and closer to the point of dreading being alone with him and at the same time craving those moments like a drug. Jack noticed, he confessed, and he’s been trying to stop McCree on his tracks for too long. Impossible, not when they mean so much to each other, not after the desire menacing to combust them alive without further notice.

When Jack came back from the mission with Jesse, he knew something had happened the moment they were alone in this same room. A pang of jealousy flashed through him, but Jack made it disappear with kisses and a wonderful story of what they did without him. At some point, Gabriel wasn’t sure if his jealousy was for Jack or for Jesse, and then he realized he just wanted to be between them and witness the explosive cocktail that the three of them will be in the bedroom. It clenches his stomach in all the right places, and Gabriel groans again when McCree keeps biting his neck, sliding both hands underneath his cotton shirt and running both thumbs over his nipples. “Bed. Now.” McCree chuckles, running a wet tongue from the crook of his neck to his earlobe.

“Yes, sir,” he whispers into his ear.

Gabriel squirms out of his hold, grabbing McCree’s hand and guiding him toward the bedroom. His palm is sweaty, and his chest heaves at every step they take. When they reach the bed, Gabriel turns about. “We can take it slow, we don’t have to…” McCree cups his face and presses their lips together once more at the same time his eagerness takes the better of him and he toes off his shoes in a blatant declaration of what he wants and will get.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” McCree says. “And you were married, and I tried to stay away, I tried to forget ‘bout you but I can’t Gabe, I ain’t that strong.” Gabriel pulls him into his arms, a hand behind his nape and the other around his back. McCree’s heart thumps as fast as his, he wants this more than himself. Gabriel cannot put into words how he feels about the cowboy, and Jesse will never understand that this thing between the three of them has to work because Gabe’s so deep into Jesse he endangered his own marriage. Thank God Jackie loves him to the moon and back because not every husband would have been so supportive when he confessed he had feelings for McCree that wouldn’t go away.

Gabriel gasps when McCree pushes him, his calves bumping into the bed, his back bouncing once before McCree straddles him in a single movement, tackling him on the mattress. The cowboy presses his palms at both sides of Gabriel’s head as he kisses him, the dark grey duvet, within military regulations -not at all like what they’re doing- feels familiar, but not as much as that heavenly mouth, kissing him back as he has always wanted. “Take it easy,” Gabriel teases, groping for McCree’s ass to squeeze and fondle freely the body that haunts him at night and makes him wake up with a morning wood worthy of a teenager. “Jackie’s about to arrive is that okay?” He pauses for a moment, but McCree grins as he rolls Gabriel’s shirt up and exposes a torso chiseled in heaven. “I can tell him not to.”

McCree mouths at his side, biting and moaning at how hot and tender his flesh feels. “Jack here is good,” he mumbles. Gabriel swears he could say a group of reporters is here to watch and Jesse wouldn’t care as busy as he is right now awakening a raging boner from his commander. They shift on the bed until Gabriel rests his head on the pillow and McCree lies all over him. His hands rove over his body until he cups his chest and watches, mesmerized, how Gabriel gets rid of the shirt above his head. “But I ain’t waiting for him,” he says with a wolfish grin and Gabriel chuckles until a hot mouth wraps around his nipple and McCree sucks and tugs at it, his tongue flicking over the hardening tip while his other hand pinches the other as hard as he can, stealing a whine and a curse from Gabe.

“Fuck, kid,” Gabriel curses. “You’re a handful.” McCree chuckles with a mouthful of him, peppering kisses up to his collarbone and neck.

“I want you to fuck me,” McCree whispers into his ear. Gabriel moans loud, his hands traveling at the front, teasing fingers sneaking in the waistband of his fatigues.

“Not the other way around?” Gabriel teases, unfastening his belt and prying open his fly, noting the hard bulge on McCree’s groin. The cowboy nods, he’s determined. “Okay, but I want that big cock of yours up my ass next time.” He senses McCree shuddering at the prospect of a next time, knowing he has hit a soft spot. Jack told him everything, from how he climaxed with McCree’s dick shoved into his mouth to how big and thick he was, and he’s been lusting for Jesse since.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, hiding his surely flushed cheeks on the crook of his neck. “I’ll fuck you real good, but I want you now.” McCree peppers kisses along his jaw until he finds his mouth willing for another languid kiss. “Just hand me the lube and I’ll be ready in a moment.” Gabriel chuckles, reaching underneath the pillow when the familiar noise of his door opening brings a naughty smile to his lips. McCree doesn’t seem to notice and fetches the lube from his hand triumphantly when Jack clears his throat near the bedroom door.

“Having fun?” Jack teases, smirking at McCree’s blush when he turns about and meets his gaze.

“C’mere, I got some for you too,” McCree brags, winking at him and making Gabe laugh.

“Careful there,” Gabriel warns, his hands traveling up his waist and sneaking underneath McCree’s shirt. “Or he’ll teach you manners.” Jack swags his way to the bed, leaning forward to give Gabe a peck on the lips. McCree glances at him with puppy eyes, lube in hand, realizing perhaps he shouldn’t mess with Jack when he’s straddling his husband with clear intentions of fucking him. Surprisingly, Jack leans closer to kiss him, and McCree opens his mouth and traps his lips into his own, stroking with his tongue and finding the bitter taste of coffee on Jack.

“Is it okay if I watch?” Jack whispers and McCree gives a jerky nod, glancing briefly at Gabe to find a smug smile baring white teeth.

“Too tired, Jackie?” Gabriel teases and Jack lets out a snort. There are no secrets in a marriage like theirs. Jack always liked to watch him and was looking forward to this. Casual partners don’t fit their routine, trust is key for them, and Jesse… Gabriel’s feelings for him make this situation perfect. Jack grabs a chair from a corner of the room, dropping carelessly the discarded clothes that were on top as he sits with a perfect side view of them together on the bed. Far enough so he can’t touch, close enough so he doesn’t miss a thing. “You’re folding that later,” Gabriel arches an eyebrow at him and McCree laughs, tugging his shirt off over his head and tossing it at Jack’s feet. The commander clicks his tongue as his smirk widens, but Gabriel maps McCree’s toned abs and chest, mouth agape.

“Gabe, close your mouth,” Jack teases. “It’s not as though you haven’t seen him shirtless before.” Gabriel throws the other pillow at Jack, missing his face by an inch.

“But now I can touch,” he grunts, straightening and trapping a brown nipple between his lips.

Jack breathes out until there’s no more air in his lungs, relishing in the curl of his stomach and the pang of jealousy wanting to conquer his mood when he watches them together. Gabriel mouths at his chest and drags his tongue over the fuzz of McCree’s skin, smiling like he hasn’t seen him smile in months. His cock swells by the bedazzling sight and they haven’t even started yet. “Clothes off,” he says in a raspy voice.

“Yes, sir,” McCree teases and winks at him, but the mere sight of Jack sprawled on the chair, a shadow on a side of his groin and his hands resting on top of his thighs clenches his stomach. He hovers over Gabriel while the commander pulls at his fatigues along with his boxers and swoops them down. He lies on top of him, shimming his garments off, his hard cock brushing Gabriel’s sweatpants and leaving a stain while he kisses him. McCree tries not to dwell on the fact that he is stark naked in front of both his commanders and about to share an intimacy he never expected but hankered more than one lonely night. Then two greedy hands fondle his ass and a moan escapes his mouth.

“Come closer,” Gabriel whispers into his mouth, urging with his hands so McCree straddles his chest. The cowboy glances down at him, his hair framing his face. Gabriel bites his lower lip, his eyes falling inevitably to McCree’s hard cock standing firmly into thin air. The ogling gets to him because it jerks and a clear trail drips down the tip. “So beautiful,” Gabriel mumbles, turning McCree beet red.

McCree squeezes lube in his right hand, discarding the bottle on the bed and wincing when the coldness of the liquid touches between his butt cheeks. Gabriel shifts underneath, reaching blindly for his sweatpants and lowering them along with his boxers, his legs fighting to kick them off while he watches McCree’s cock bounce by the movement and listens to a needy whine as he opens himself. “Need some help?” McCree teases as Gabriel struggles to kick his trousers out of the way. Jack stirs on the chair, his clammy hands glued to his thighs as he tries to stop himself. If this is hard already, he doesn’t know how it’ll be when they’re fucking, but he’ll endure it.

Gabriel grants him a half-smile, tugging at his already steel-hard cock twice before he fumbles for the bottle of lube and coats his fingers. McCree grunts, uselessly trying to push another finger in way too soon and from an awkward angle. He looks over his shoulder, Gabe’s hands spreading his butt cheeks, smearing lube on one side, and spots Gabriel’s hard cock by the corner of his eye. He swallows thickly, but he turns about and braces on his chest when another finger prods with his own, he clenches around them before he breathes out and finds Gabriel’s gaze encouraging him. “Just like that, relax,” Gabriel says, wetting his lips.

A sight for sore eyes, Gabriel’s dark skin contrasting with McCree’s complexion, the expression on their faces, lost in themselves, glancing at him occasionally, Gabe for support, Jesse out of curiosity and excitement. Jack loves every single bit of it, how Jesse’s little whines fill the room, how Gabe moves away his hand and thrusts two of his fingers inside. It’ll be faster if Gabe does it, he knows how to leave you soft and pliant and ready for a fuck in no time. His fingers are thick and big and he praises you all the way, fills your ears with a blue streak of nonsense while he works you open. “More, Gabe,” Jesse gasps. Jack is almost envious, tempted to at least unbutton his cargo pants to get some relief. But there’s a thrill in his cock fighting the lack of space and huddled at a side of his groin.

Gabriel spreads and snatches the two fingers stretching McCree’s hole, the lube already leaving a trail down his palm and wrist by the position, but he doesn’t care. He thrusts them in to the second knuckle and McCree starts to fuck himself into his fingers, his thighs supporting his weight, his hands spread like fans on his shoulders, and his hips moving up and down. “Let him taste you, Jesse,” Jack says, his ragged breath so evident it startles Gabriel. His husband has a gentle blush covering his cheeks and nose, and without noting it, his hand moves up and his thumb caresses the length of what he knows is a hard cock.

“You wanna kill me, right?” McCree teases, a wide smile on his lips as he leans forward, forearm on the headboard supporting him, arching his spine onward so Gabriel can keep thrusting his fingers in his ass. With his free hand, McCree grips his cock by the hilt and tilts his throbbing erection in the direction of Gabe’s mouth. The commander lets his tongue out and tastes the salty droplets gathered at the tip. McCree moans and then gasps at a third finger joining the bundle. “Damn.”

The curse curls Jack’s lips upward. His husband grips McCree’s ass bruisingly, his other hand palming his butt cheek but his fingers busy as he dips them in and out of him. Gabriel slides the tip of his cock into his mouth, twirling his tongue around it as he hums a sweet melody Jack knows all too well. He capitulates and tugs at the button of his pants, groaning when the zipper lowers on its own and offers a much-needed relief.

McCree’s shameless moans leave his lungs in unison with his breath, glancing down at Gabe, his commander, his boss, the man lurking his dreams, hollowing his cheeks and sucking his cock. Gabriel flicks his tongue on the underside, urging McCree to rock forward and fuck his mouth with two demanding hands pushing his ass. With three fingers stretching him and the molten heat of his mouth around his cock, McCree has no chance. “I’m gonna come, -he gasps for air- Gabe!”

“Not yet,” Jack says, and McCree grips the hilt of his cock tightly while Gabriel takes him out with a wet plop.

“He gets a little bossy sometimes,” Gabriel says, winking at him and landing a kiss on the engorged head of his cock soaked in spit and his own pre-cum. McCree chuckles, crawling back and leaning down to kiss Gabe, both his forearms on the pillow caging his head. He tastes himself in Gabriel’s lips, mumbling a darling into his mouth as the fingers slip out of his ass. “Lie on your back,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over his mouth at every word.

Jack watches attentively how Jesse rolls to a side and lies on his back as Gabriel kneels between his legs. Now that McCree has a better look at Gabriel’s cock he swallows, parting his lips and exhaling a moan. Jack smiles at the scene, unable to help himself, and pulls with his thumb at his underwear, freeing his cock from the unmerciful cage. He lets out a groan, his fingers stroking gently his length and pulling at his skin. Jesse sprawled on the bed just for Gabe curls his stomach nice and warm, and when he hooks his legs on his elbows by the knee pit and Gabriel thrusts two fingers inside him, his cock jerks and a clear trail of lust drips down his knuckles.

Gabriel’s dick is as big and thick as his, shorter, but wonderfully thicker at the root. “I’m ready, Gabe,” McCree whispers, staring at his dick between a mixture of impatience and excitement. It’s been too long since he’s had a guy his size inside him.

“We can still turn things around,” Gabriel jests at how McCree’s eyes rivet along his cock. He leaves him empty, reaching for the lube and coating his length generously.

“No way,” McCree teases, spreading his legs a bit further apart, his chin on his chest so he doesn’t miss it. Gabriel cleans his hand on the bedding, warm hands caressing the back of his thighs as he scoots closer, cradling McCree’s ass with his thighs. His length teases on his rim and McCree whines, his breath peaking. He glimpses Jack pumping his cock at a leisurely pace, watching them with a half-smile and a heaving chest. “If you guys wanted to make all my dirty fantasies come true, you’re on the right path, ya’ know?” Jack’s smile widens, but McCree forgets his playfulness when a hard tip prods right into his stretched hole.

“Wanna join us now?” Gabriel asks his husband, and Jack nods slowly.

“I’m enjoying the show so far,” Jack says in a raspy voice.

“Gabe,” Jesse pleads, urging him to stop teasing and tugging because he wants him inside for yesterday. Gabriel swivels his hips forward, the purplish tip of his cock breaching in. The cowboy mewls a curse and forces his body to relax around him. Tender hands stroking his legs and Gabe’s smile soothes him.

“Fuck you’re tight, kid,” Gabriel gasps, leaning forward and sliding another inch inside McCree, so slowly he relishes in how Jesse opens his mouth and a moan leaves his lungs. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispers, short thrusts pushing in and pulling out as he stretches him further. McCree smiles and releases his legs, throwing both arms over Gabriel’s shoulders and pulling him onward.

“I’m good, fuck me,” McCree whispers into his mouth, letting his tongue out to tease between his lips and commit to a kiss that muffles the next shared breath when Gabriel thrusts forward and shoves himself balls-deep inside Jesse. Gabriel brackets McCree with his forearms, his thighs supporting his ass and angling him right where he wants. He opens his eyes to find feathery lashes adorning Jesse’s cheeks as they kiss. The little whimpers leaving his mouth, the way he relaxes around him and allows him in in so many ways. So, Gabriel fucks him, rocks his hips and thrusts in a measured tempo, never leaving the heat of his body, his cock splitting him open, his tongue assailing his mouth, his husband watching them both attentively.

Jack wants to miss nothing of Gabriel fucking Jesse. He wants to relish in the exact moment the cowboy climaxes, in the thin layer of sweat that coats his husband whenever they fuck and now glides along McCree’s body. He wants to see it all and endure it, his hand holding his cock in a tight fist, feeling the pounding of his blood, begging for relief but at the same time lost in the sight.

McCree threads his fingers on Gabe’s short hair, moaning whenever he bottoms out and he’s so full of him he wants to cry of happiness. This is all he ever wanted, he forgets about their silent observer for a moment, even though he knows Jack’s there watching and adds a notch to the desire coiling down on him. The only thing he cares about now is Gabe, their fucking, and how many times he has dreamed about this. He feels like coming already, with Gabriel’s hot breath puffing on his neck and his cock pounding into him. There’s no finesse, no artifice, just them and a raw need they nursed for each other for way too long.

They’ve never been unfaithful to each other. They’ve had threesomes, but more like a playful game than this. Gabriel always wanted two dicks in him, maybe he’ll get it now that Jesse is here. He and Gabriel have fucked long and desperate for many years, from risky shower fucks in SEP, to long sweaty nights in a shared bunk, but never alone with another. This is the first time, and Jack knows he’s witnessing more than fucking, that his husband loves Jesse and is making love to him, that the brat is desperately in love too even if he cannot acknowledge it yet. Being part of this is important, he wants to share it with them even if it’s like this. When Jack sees McCree sneaking a hand to wrap around his cock he speaks. “Make him come untouched,” he says to Gabriel, his voice faltering, all his willpower focused on not jerking off fast and coming before they’re done.

“Goddamn,” McCree curses, gripping Gabriel’s strong arm when his commander cups his face and slides a thumb into his mouth. McCree sucks, wishing one day it’s Jack’s dick while Gabriel fucks him. The thought does wonders, his cock jerks and leaks a clear spurt on his stomach at the same time the cock filling him to the brim brushes the right spot.

“You feel so good,” Gabriel whispers. He exploits the angle with a devilish grin, overwhelmed by how close he is to spilling into Jesse. How many times he has dreamed about it, the image chasing him even when he fucked his own husband.

Jack could have let them enjoy this on their own, but he knows that time will come eventually. He knows when he’s busy Gabriel won’t be alone in bed anymore. His husband will be with Jesse and they will comfort each other. At this point, with Gabriel’s moans and ass flexing as he fucks Jesse deeper and faster, Jack has to stop touching himself, so on edge, a breeze would make him come. The only thing Jack doesn’t know yet is that Jesse will comfort him too, that the cowboy will fall for him as hard as he fell for Gabe and that he will visit him on his office late at night. For a coffee, or a fast fuck on his desk. Jack will find out soon enough there is no escape from Jesse McCree’s charms even if it takes him a bit longer than his husband to realize.

Gabriel comes first, his orgasm catching him by surprise when Jesse wraps arms and legs around him and moans a sweet, tender-hearted endearment into their kiss. And in the middle of his orgasm, Jesse clenches forcefully around him, trapping him there in an almost painful embrace. But Gabe smiles, spills himself thoroughly inside McCree and hides in the crook of his neck, fucking into him until he feels the hot cum between them and his cock slips out soft and spent. “Are you okay?” he whispers.

“Never been better,” McCree says, landing a peck on his neck, his hands mapping the expanse of his back. “Jack,” he says, as though he just remembered he’s still there. Gabriel kneels between Jesse’s legs, watching in awe his gaping hole fluttering and oozing his cum, his surprisingly still hard cock at one side of his hip and a pool of cum on his stomach.

“I’m here,” Jack says, his swollen, purplish cock untouched and firmly resting against his shirt, a pool of pre-cum the telltale of his repressed lust. He stands when his husband glances at him and mumbles an inaudibly Jackie. He tastes of Jesse, and sweat, and too much sex.

“Want me to help with that, Jack?” McCree teases, taking himself in hand, his cock swelling again in a gentle loose fit. Jack swallows and glances at Gabriel. His husband smiles, lying on the bed next to Jesse and kissing him on the lips.

“You sure, kid?” McCree nods to Gabe and winks at Jack who climbs up the bed completely dressed, his cargo pants loose on his hips, his cock out, his shirt sweaty on the armpits and the neck. The Strike commander wets his lips, kneeling between his legs while a hand roams his husband’s leg and up his ass for familiarity.

“If the commander can give it, I can take it,” McCree brags, but the wolfish grin on Jack’s lips sends a frisson through his spine.

“Turn around,” Jack whispers. McCree’s smile widens, and in a single movement he’s on his forearms and knees, Gabriel’s proximity offering a confidence he would’ve lacked otherwise. He’s weary, but his cock fights to stay hard. The idea of Jack fucking him right after Gabe clenches his stomach in sheer lust.

“Need me to show you how?” McCree says, mimicking Jack’s retort when he told him to kiss him back in the casino. Gabriel chuckles when his husband spanks McCree’s ass and the cowboy winces, pressing his forehead on the pillow and wondering what is Jack doing that he isn’t all over him now. He’s been holding back the entire time, watching from afar, and now he’s taking his sweet time with him when there’s no clearer offering than his ass lifted in the air and eager to take his cock. Jack presses a hand on the small of his back and hunches forward, breathing hotly into his gaping hole. “Damn it,” he curses.

“You asked for it,” Gabriel says with a supercilious curl of the lips. “Now he’s gonna have his way with you…” McCree turns about, a cheek on the pillow as he glances at Gabe. He’s about to quip something when Jack’s tongue laps right into his abused ass with a hum and the words drift to the back of his mind. The only thing that leaves his mouth is an intent moan. “Unless you don’t want him too,” Gabriel teases, caressing his cheek with his knuckles.

“Don’t stop,” McCree mumbles, wringing the pillow with both hands. He feels a trail of cum dripping down his cleft and a hot, wet tongue following it up and dipping into his ass. A blue streak of curses leaves his mouth as he buries his beet-red face on the pillow. His cock jerks when Jack twirls his tongue inside his stretched hole, fucking him in short thrusts of a taut tongue while his hands dig their fingertips on his ass. McCree never thought Jack was the kinky type, but there’s always something else about the snooty ones, something like he would be the one to lick his husband’s come from another man’s ass. McCree has nothing to say against it, not when it feels so damn good. He fights for air and pushes back into his tongue.

“Are you hard again?” Gabriel whispers into his ear, distracting him from Jack’s doing. McCree nods, and Gabriel sneaks a hand underneath his body and runs his knuckles from hilt to tip, sending a shudder through him. Another long stroke into his ass and Jack straightens.

“I’m guessing you liked that,” Jack says, cleaning the excess lube from his face with the back of his hand.

“You bet,” McCree gasps, spreading his knees further and glancing back over his shoulder as Jack scoots closer. It isn’t over and he’s ready for more.

“You say it, we stop.” Jack arches an eyebrow.

“Gabe’s bigger than you, darlin’,” McCree teases, tempting fate. “I’ll be fine.” Gabriel’s chuckle echoes in the room, and the commander shares a conspiratorial glance with his husband. Gabriel leans on an elbow, knowing what’s coming. Jack smirks, positioning the tip of his cock right into McCree’s ass and suppressing a needy moan when his warmth and pliant muscle strokes the sensitive head.

“He may be bigger, kid,” Jack says, fighting his ragged breath and the urge to fuck him until no more bravados come out of his mouth. He’ll keep trying in the years to come with little luck. “But it’s me who you’re gonna feel in the morning.” Jack shoves himself into McCree in a ruthless onslaught until his balls slap him and his hips can’t slam any forward.

McCree moans and braces himself on the headboard, anticipating another one when Jack pulls out slowly and sinks himself back inside in a single thrust. He can take him easily, the previous fucking has left him ready for more, but Jack’s eagerness curls his stomach, how he thrusts into him faster every time, balls-deep, making sure he feels the burn and the stretch. “Now you’re going to come around me, Jesse,” Jack whispers, gripping his hips with white-knuckle force, surely forming bruises McCree will see tomorrow. He’s so close every time he slams forward he dreads it’s the last, and Gabriel guesses it, kissing Jesse on a sweaty cheek while he sneaks a hand down his belly and wraps around McCree’s hard cock. He’s impossibly hard and his cock leaks a white trail.

“Oh, damn,” McCree curses. He would love to watch Gabe, but Jack pounding into him in a relentless pace and a warm, callous hand jerking him off it’s too much, so he buries his face in the pillow to muffle his moans. He braces himself on the headboard and anchors himself on the mattress with both knees, enduring the sweet torture from both his commanders. Wet noises fill the room when Jack pulls out and sheathes in, his cock coated in Gabriel’s cum and lube, McCree’s ass ready to take another load though it won’t be able to keep it there. “I’m close,” he mumbles, his legs trembling by the effort even though Jack keeps him angled just downright perfect.

Jack groans, his thrusts frantic and fast as his hips work to chase his pleasure inside that heavenly ass offered by the cowboy. And he thought he’d be the one fucking his husband tonight, but no, he’s fucking Jesse and it feels so right he can barely hold it together. Gabriel’s encouragements in Jesse’s ear reaches him too, and when his husband licks his earlobe and up the shell, McCree shudders and clenches around him. He’s so tender Jack keeps fucking his fluttering hole as Gabriel milks him dry.

It’s the shared, messy kiss between Jesse and Gabe what does it for him, his intent, short thrusts disturbing the tenderness between them. Jack shoves himself balls-deep and his cock jerks, shooting his load inside McCree. He locks eyes with Gabe, keeps fucking him and squeezing his butt cheeks until he makes sure there’s nothing left. “Good boy,” Gabriel whisper in McCree’s ear, but Jack knows it’s for both. He pulls out, relishing in the gaping hole leaking his spent when McCree falls slack on the mattress, his head finding Gabe’s chest while his husband hugs him close.

Jack leans forward, kissing between McCree’s shoulder blades and up to his nape. “Good boy, indeed, cowboy,” he praises, and McCree attempts to nudge him but ends up chuckling.

“I hate to be the bad guy,” Gabriel whispers, dreading McCree will fall asleep. “But how about we take a shower together? You can’t fall asleep like that, you’d regret it in the morning.”

“It ain’t my fault you two made a mess of me,” McCree teases and Jack slaps his ass and kisses his cheek before he stands, tucking his cock back into his underwear. He returns the chair where it belonged and undresses, picking up the bundle of clothes from the floor before his husband chides him again. Jack needed a bed today more than a fuck.

“Take him to the shower,” Jack says.

“Come on.” Gabriel stands, pulling at McCree’s arm and luring him to the shower between kisses and loving words. Jack chuckles, tossing his boots away before he throws the second pillow back to the bed. His cargo pants follow, and he cleans himself briefly with his underwear before he slides stark naked underneath the sheets. He’ll take a shower tomorrow morning, tonight he’s tired after a whole day buried in paperwork, but his stomach curls strangely good at what they just shared. It felt right, Gabriel was over the moon the whole time, he could tell, and McCree had a well-deserved fun… with both. Perhaps now he gets over his crush with Gabe, or that’s what Jack tells to himself as he rests his head on the pillow and closes his eyes.

Gabriel and Jesse take a quick, hot shower where the brat whistles at the luxury that seems to have a private bathroom and kisses him more times than he deserves, distracting him from the task of getting him clean. The two of them barely fit, not to speak if Jack wanted to join them too. Finally, he tosses a towel to McCree and they dry themselves between shared glances and an intimacy that comes way too easily. “Should I see myself out?” McCree asks with a deep furrow between his eyebrows when they get out of the bathroom.

“Jesse,” Gabriel whispers with a smile, cupping his face with a warmed-up hand and kissing briefly his lips.

“I don’t wanna impose.” McCree shrugs, but Gabriel shakes his head and takes his hand, dragging him back to bed only to find Jack facing the other way and covered to the chest with the duvet. He slides underneath and beckons McCree with his head. The cowboy smiles shyly and complies, snuggling side by side in a bed too small for three. It does the trick, and Gabriel turns about to kiss him before he offers his back at Jesse.

“You okay?” Gabriel whispers. McCree answers with a kiss before he nuzzles at his nape. Tired as he is, McCree throws an arm over his waist and sneaks a leg between his thighs, keeping him close for warmth and comfort. And because he’s a fool in love and his stomach clenched in fear at the mere thought of coming back now to his bunk on his own right after they fucked. “As long as you’re okay, kid.”

“Gabe,” McCree whispers, a question itching at the back of his throat. “How long?” For how long did you want me? How long would’ve taken us to realize what we felt? How long until this is over and I’m heartbroken? Jack chuckles softly when Gabe takes his sweet time to answer.

“Too damn long,” Gabriel says, snuggling back into Jesse and clasping their hands together over his thumping heart.

“You two better keep it down or I’m going to my bed,” Jack threatens, though nothing would make him sneak out of this bed tonight and he knows it’ll be a challenge to leave tomorrow. “I have a meeting first thing in the morning. You two have the day off, I bet you need to sort things out,” he teases and Gabe snorts. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do…” he drawls, breathing out slowly as he feels his husband and Jesse shifting behind him, finding solace in their shared heat, in the oh-so-missed longing of being free and together, without complications, at least for tonight, those always come on their own and Jack never was the one to call on them sooner than expected.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧  
> Merry Smutty Christmas!!!! <3333
> 
> Suggestions, corrections, and comments are more than welcome ლζ*♡ε♡*ζლ


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